


flash freeze

by freakedelic



Series: NonconWhumpKinktober 2020 [21]
Category: DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Hypothermia, M/M, Necrophilia, Pet Names, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:07:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26601115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakedelic/pseuds/freakedelic
Summary: His face is frozen, body curled around himself in what had been a futile attempt to keep what warmth he could against the cold. Tears are still frozen down his face, crystallized as he cried them.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Ra's al Ghul
Series: NonconWhumpKinktober 2020 [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1917016
Comments: 14
Kudos: 43





	flash freeze

**Author's Note:**

> noncontober day 21: necrophilia, whumptober day 21: hypothermia, kinktober day 21: size difference

Ra’s finds him in the snow four miles south of the compound.

The wind whips around him as he kneels down to where the ninja had found the body, heedless of the cold moving up through his insulated clothing. He brushes it aside slowly, like Timothy was an archaeological find, prone to being broken at the slightest movement. He’s practically frozen, limbs immobile in ice rather than _rigor mortis_. Frost clings to his dark hair and his lashes. His face is frozen, body curled around himself in what had been a futile attempt to keep what warmth he could against the cold. Tears are still frozen down his face, crystallized as he cried them.

On impulse, Ra’s goes to brush away the lock of hair hanging in front of his face. It barely moves in his hand. Frozen. Timothy looks so small, frozen in the snow, curled desperately around himself. In life, he has learned to make himself larger, to puff up like a cat to ward off predators—but in death, he is left small and fragile, buried in the cold.

There are the remains of a shelter a little bit away—the start of an igloo, buried in snow, just like Timothy. He must have started too late, been too afraid of being tracked down after it was finished. Timothy had certainly heard Ra’s mention the storm, but instead of seeing it as a reason not to leave, he had taken it as something that would erase his tracks. A stupid thing to do. How desperate he had been.

Ra’s picks him up. He feels like an ice sculpture, the cold biting through his jacket. He clicks his tongue and a ninja runs up. Ra’s takes the man’s cloak and drapes it over Timothy. It will trap no body heat, but it seems . . . right.

* * *

Timothy makes the bed under him damp as he thaws. He looks curled up—the blue is disappearing from his cheeks and his lips, the tears falling down his cheeks as they were always meant to. He’s unusually without the jewelry Ra’s dresses him in, dressed only in a stolen assassins’ uniform. Ra’s can stroke his hair now, feel the lack of body heat. He’s still beautiful dead, even with his eyes staring off into nothing.

Ra’s tilts him and finds that he’s able to move the boy’s body. It’s less of a frozen block now. He leans down to kiss him. Timothy tastes like blood. He doesn’t resist when Ra’s slips his tongue between his teeth, when he bites on his lip, when he pulls him close. The Bride is beautiful like this, beautiful at peace.

Ra’s strips the clothes off of him with only a vague knowledge of what he wants to do. The boy’s body is still cold as he runs his hands over it—finds the tattoos that had been put on his thighs, the thin white scars on Tim’s arms from the last time he’d gotten his hands on a sharp object. They will disappear when he goes into the pit, but for now—

Ra’s’s hands trail downwards. Tim’s cock isn’t hard, can’t get hard with the death he has. And yet without the reflexive tightening of muscles his hole is loose. Cold, colder than it every has been, but looking at him curled up on the bed Ra’s simply can’t resist turning him over, spreading his legs, fingering him wide. Timothy is never this silent and docile, always moaning and squirming and protesting, but here and now he is silent and beautiful. Like a doll, undressed by her owner.

Ra’s sinks into him with a hiss. It’s not tight, not warm, but it’s _Timothy_. He is beautiful and Ra’s is, as always, utterly incapable of resisting him. He tugs on nipples that don’t harden, fucking into loose muscles that are so cold they hurt. He stares at eyes that don’t move and he _comes_. It’s the hottest thing in the boy’s body, dripping freely onto the sheets.

Timothy knows nothing at all, lips slightly open, Ra’s leaning down to kiss his Beloved once again.


End file.
